The instant the portkey activated, Harry knew that something was wrong. The light wasn't just blue, but streaked with gold, the turning was the world around her, as well as her. Forcing her head down, she looked at what was in her hand- Hermione's Time-turner, it was smashed to pieces, and, as she watched, a few grains. Instantly, she knew that, whatever happened, she was in more trouble than she could handle. You didn't mix powerful magics that could bend time, or space, much less both. The results were always spectacularly disastrous, and usually fatal, in messy and painful manners. What a lovely Birthday present; Death Eaters, torture, and then dying in a magical accident.
The spinning was starting to get nauseating, and the magic meant that she couldn't close her eyes, which, upon further thought, was probably a good thing, as doing so would probably increase her motions sickness. Speaking of which, it was starting to slow... As her surroundings came into focus, Harry's mouth let out the words that came into her head.
"Oh...shit, I guess I'm dead, then. That sucks." She promptly fainted on top of the dining room table of Potter Manor, in front of Dumbledore, Moody, and on top of McGonagall's plate, in a ringing silence.
"That sucks?" Minerva McGonagall heard one of the Prewett twins, Gideon, based on the mole on his right ear, say incredulously.
"A girl port-keys through some of the toughest wards in the country," Fabian added.
"Battered and bruised, lands on a dinner table, surrounded by famous people," The other continued.
"Is convinced that she's dead, and she says 'that sucks'. Who does that?!"
"I'm more concerned with how she did it." Snapped Moody, rolling the girl off of her plate, then hissing as he saw the massive gash that laid open half her back. "Dorea!" Lady Potter, who was one of the best healers in the world, was already there, wand out as she cast healing spell after healing spell, assisted by the grizzled Head Auror, and her husband, who as the head of the DMLE, was accustomed to battle-field medicine. Minerva set to work doing permanent conjuration of bandages, as she was one of the few people who could make permanent conjurations.
More than one person, wired tensely from both the unexpected arrival, and the battled to save the girls' life, jumped, wands ready, when there was a flash of golden fire, and Fawkes, Albus's phoenix familiar appeared directly above the girl-woman. Landing on her chest, he bent his graceful head, and let three pearly drops fall past her barely-parted lips. The effect was immediate; her face eased from the lines of pain, she ceased struggling for each breath, and her color improved form the deathly pale shade it had been. The Healers eased back, after the monitoring spell shifted from the crimson of 'dying' to the mixed shades of blue, meaning 'severe magical exhaustion, and yellow, which was 'stable'
"She's not going to die on us." The Lady of the Manor sighed in relief. The potential of losing his information source over, Moody reverted to form.
"Who is she, and how the bloody hell-"
"Alastor! Language!" Dorea reprimanded absently, casting another spell.
"-Hell she got through the wards." the irascible auror snarled suspiciously.
"She didn't go through them." Charlus Potter, Dorea's husband, said, looking at the pocket watch he'd tied to the Manor wards. "If anything, they either welcomed her, or she appeared inside them. The only way they'd let her through, would be if she was of Potter blood." Minerva looked at the girl, who appeared to be about sixteen, if that, and short and slender for her age, closely.
"She looks a lot like James," the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts said, thoughtfully, referring to the only child of the potters, who was both one of her favorites, and the bane of her existence as a teacher and head of Gryffindor.
"If I wasn't aware that James was only seventeen, I'd say that she was his daughter." Benjy Fenwick, who'd recently been promoted to Senior Auror, commented.
"Uncle Aurelius wasn't known for keeping his pants on, and he only died three years back." Charlus said, then spun, wand ready to curse, as Dorea gasped.
"Get me the strongest Anti-Cruciatus potions you can find, three vials of Blood-Replenishing Potion, and that salve aurors used on wounds from werewolf claws!" There was a crack, and Miffy, Dorea's House-elf Healing assistant appeared with the requested. The first three were shoved down the girls throat, then using her wand to roll the girl carefully over, the Healer vanished the bandages on the ghastly cut, which had already bled through.
There was a great deal of consternation that she didn't immediately apply the salve, which was more effective the sooner it was used, until, making Moody grimace and turn away, looking ill, the woman dug her fingers into the top of the slash, and pulled out the broken ends of two claws, which Moody looked back just in time to see. With a flick of her wand, Minerva conjured her old friend a bucket to vomit it, long-since experienced with his squeamishness when it came to the messier parts of Healing. It never failed to amuse her that the hardened warrior could eat anything, drink men twenty years his junior under the table, and the go evasive-maneuver flying, and be so tough in battle, as well as clean up the most gruesome of corpses, without turning a hair; and yet still faint while watching Healing, if he wasn't busy doing said Healing to another, or being Healed.
A spluttering sound from behind her, nearly had the entire Order hexing their esteemed leader, as Albus stared at the three-foot parchment Dorea had set down. When the woman and her husband got back from putting the strange girl in the guest room that doubled as a comfortable cell, upon occasion, the venerable man set it down.
A/N: A bit short, sorry. The next chapter should be up tomorrow
